With Light
by NextNothingNew
Summary: Sequel to With L. As Light comes to terms with his feelings for L, L has his own startling revelation concerning Light. One shot. LxLight.


-1A/N: Hi! Yes, a sequel from L's point of view. Because I think of them as two sides of the same coin, so that means L needs to have his thoughts broadcasted just like Light's.

Disclaimer: Did you think I did? Sorry to disappoint! L and Light and Death Note do not belong to me, sadly.

Several days before Light had his revelation (unbeknownst to L) L had been watching Light sleep, arms crossed over the keyboard, with his head resting on them. This was causing a single letter - L, funny enough - to splay itself across the screen, and every time Light shifted, a few more letters or numbers would be added.

And Light, in this oddly defenseless scenario, triggered a deep feeling of regret in L about an event that had yet to happen.

This event being Light's execution.

And as L pictured Light's being punished for his crimes against humanity - wait, that wasn't right. That was what the Nazi's had been charged for, and it seemed wrong to compare Light to them. Perhaps that was too harsh. His crimes, just his crimes -

After the inner argument about what exactly it was called that Light was doing, which he settled on the broad term of murder, he thought of how Light would die.

This was bad, of course, because they made L feel rather sick. And they never made complete sense, either.

First, there was the electric chair. L could see Light - dressed in white, probably a strategic move to bring about sympathy for him - walking past the rows of people - why people were watching, L couldn't figure - to a chair in the middle of the floor. L could see Light sit down in it, head held high just as a proud, brave martyr would, instigating even more empathy from the crowd. And for some reason, L kept seeing him holding an apple in his right hand. Before his inexperienced imagination attempted to paint the picture of someone - who had no face, it was only shadow there - actually throw the switch, he considered the next scene, which wasn't much better.

There was the needle. Light was also seated in a chair here, before a cold, gray metal table, which held a tray of similar color. In the tray was a syringe, filled with a colorless liquid. This time, he was dressed in black, gazing at the needle with absolutely no emotion. His arm was resting on the table, and L saw a man - no face again - pick up the needle and press the tip into Light's arm. There was something floating above Light, but it was only a blur of black and wings. L's poor effort to try and create a shinigami, he supposed. But the needle, sharp and dripping cloudless venom, was piercing his skin. Light was going to die like a dog.

L shuddered, and hurried onto the next possibility, which was the firing squad. They didn't do this, not anymore, but before the fact could fully seep into his thought process, he saw Light in red. Smiling, leaning against a far gray wall, which only made the stunning crimson stand out more. His arms were crossed - didn't they used to kill people this way outside? - and L thought that his come hither attitude was going to get him shot even sooner. At the sound of a gunshot, the picture ended instantly, going black like a broken TV screen.

And, of course, there was the possibility of suicide. L wasn't sure this was entirely possible, as Light didn't seem the type to kill himself, but maybe he would, just to spite the law enforcement. Just to keep them from killing him, from carrying out justice.

Here, he wasn't wearing anything. L's mind seemed to have run out of suitable colors for Light to wear. Or perhaps he saw him as being raw, pure, at his wit's end, so much so that clothes were unnecessary, unneeded?

Light stood atop a chair, arms stretched to reveal the contours of lean muscle, face determined and devoted to the task at hand, lacing the chain over a pipe at the ceiling. A cuff was still at his right hand, about half a foot of links trailing from it, but his left wrist was bare. He pulled on the chain, making sure it wouldn't do something wholly inconvenient - like break. Then, he slipped the nose over his head, the familiar metal laying over his skin delicately - and his foot seemed to slip - right off the chair - - - -

L jerked forward just before the vision of the chain tightening came, feet falling out from under him, and both his hands gripped the arms of the chair. He swallowed, his throat dry, face hot. He licked his lips, heart hurting from the strain - why the _hell_ did he _do this_ to himself-?

_-clink-_

L was watching Light, who was typing at his computer just as any other day. He dropped another chocolate covered cherry into his mouth, tongue crushing it against the roof of his mouth and pressing between the tasty chocolate to get at that sugary white stuff.

And, as L lifted his hand to nibble at his thumb, there was a soft _clink_.

L looked over at Light, whose hand was clutching the chain tightly. Light was staring at him, and L had the sneaking suspicion that Light was not thinking about the case at all, as he had stopped typing for the past three minutes, and had not moved his gaze from the computer screen until just then.

And as Light looked - simply _looked_ - at him with that undecipherable expression, the unbidden thought that L just knew was never going to go away, leave him in peace, came again, along with that permanent odd squeezing sensation in his chest.

If Light was ever caught, and sentenced to the death penalty - as he most certainly would -

L would be forced to save him.


End file.
